


Good Vibrations

by sparxwrites



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alien Biology, Bioluminescence, Biting, Hair-pulling, M/M, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Tentacle Dick, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What is it?” asks Will, eyeing the small device in Parvis’ hand suspiciously.<br/>Parvis grins, the kind of light in his eyes that Will has come to associate with either utter disaster or completely unforeseen success. “It’s a vibrator!” he says, presses a button on the top of it and laughs when Will jumps a little at the resulting buzz. “It vibrates. Does nice things to your naughty bits. Trust me, it’s <i>good</i>.”</p><p>(Wherein Parvis introduces Strife to the joys of sex toys.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Vibrations

**Author's Note:**

> so the wonderful donotchoosesidesyet and summersfic on tumblr came up with a variety of [intriguing headcanons](http://donotchoosesidesyet.tumblr.com/post/98822301270/the-illustrated-guide-to-banging-a-luminan) about strife's alien genitalia. i, being the terrible person that i am, immediately decided the best thing to do with this information was to explore how lumian junk would work with vibrators. ~~i am so, so sorry.~~
> 
> (i refuse to apologise for the title, though. the title is awesome. especially since the draft document was titled "i can't believe i'm actually writing this", big improvement from that.)

“What is it?” asks Will, eyeing the small device in Parvis’ hand suspiciously.

It’s thin, not too long, slightly curved at the tip. Maybe an inch longer than Parvis’ middle finger – and suspiciously phallic. Although, given that Parvis has introduced it whilst they’re both sat naked on his bed, the fact that it appears to be slightly sexual in nature is less of a surprise than it probably should be.

Parvis grins, the kind of light in his eyes that Will has come to associate with either utter disaster or completely unforeseen success. “It’s a vibrator!” he says, presses a button on the top of it and laughs when Will jumps a little at the resulting buzz. “It vibrates. Does nice things to your naughty bits. Trust me, it’s _good_.”

He hands the toy over to Will, who takes it with tentative hands – like it might explode. Considering he’s being handed it by _Parvis_ , the likelihood for catastrophic and spontaneous failure is reasonably high.

“Hmm,” he says, turns it over in his hands, presses a finger against the tip of it and frowns at the strength of the buzz. It turns the pad of his finger fuzzy and half-numb entirely too quickly, and he can’t help but think that having that anywhere near the delicate sensitivity of his fronds is going to _hurt_.

Curious, he lifts it, touches it to one pressure-sensitive nodes down the side of his neck – and then pulls it away with a high noise of surprise at the sensation. It’s entirely different to touch or pressure, the strange on-off pulsing something his brain can’t quite deal with, and he’s not entirely sure what to make of it. His freckles flare bright green-yellow with it, brightest around the node, and he touches it to another one to watch the way the light shifts to flare around the different location.

It’s not an _unpleasant_ sensation, per se, he decides. He presses it a little more firmly against a slightly less sensitive node over his ribs, sucks in a breath and watches the rings of light that spread out like ripples around it before he pulls it away. It’s… different, very different, though, and that means it has the potential to go wrong.

He doesn’t like things with the potential to go wrong.

Some of his hesitancy and confusion must show on his face, because Parvis goes into full-on begging mode almost immediately. “Can we at least _try_ it?” he asks, does that god-awful puppy dog expression that Will hates because he can’t say no to it. “ _Please_? I’ll be careful, get you all warmed up first…”

Parvis’ eyes drop heavy-lidded, voice edging seductive, and Will feels the leaves over his sheath beginning to shift just at Parvis’ expression.

He exhales slowly, pulls himself together, closes his eyes for a moment and tries to ignore the steady buzz of the vibrator against his fingers. “Okay,” he says, opening them again in time to see Parvis grin blindingly wide. “But you’ve got to be careful.”

“Yes!” Parvis bowls him over in his enthusiasm, knocks him back against the bed until they’re pressed chest-to-chest, kisses him with a sloppy enthusiasm that leaves them both gasping and Parvis’ lips kiss-pink. “You’re the best, Will.”

He nuzzles against Will’s throat, sucks a bruise into it over one of the many pressure-sensitive nodes scattered over his skin, and grins when Will groans. The vibrator shuts off at the click of a button and he drops it to the bed, next to the curve of Will’s hip, lets it nestle in the sheets for now.

When he slides a hand down Will’s chest, over his stomach to dip between his legs, he’s not surprised to find Will’s leaves have already begun to soften and shift, sliding over each other to uncover his sheath. He strokes them, careful not to brush against the newly exposed cilia, running knuckles over the leaves until they part even more.

“Open up for me,” he mumbles against Will’s throat, grins when Will huffs out a laugh despite himself.  
“Not my choice,” says Will, a slight hitch in his breathing that only makes Parvis grin wider. “It’s- it’s called-” He forgets the word when Parvis touches the pad of his thumb ever so lightly against the cilia lining his sheath, arches into the touch and grabs at Parvis’ bony hips hard enough to bruise.

Parvis giggles, shifts his hips to grind himself against the solidity of Will’s thigh. “Involuntary response to stimulus?” he offers, moves his fingers back to petting Will’s leaves. His fronds are beginning to uncurl too, the edges of them clinging to Parvis’ fingers hesitantly.

“Why can you remember that, and not how to build the basic machinery for a semi-decent sorting system?” grumbles Will, loses his words again when the first of his fronds uncurls completely and winds itself in a very determined fashion around Parvis’ index finger.

He gives Parvis all of half a second to be smug about reducing him to gasps again before sliding a hand under Parvis’ stomach, pushing down, curling a hand around the hard cock pressed against the inside of his thigh. Parvis moans, shoves his face against Will’s shoulder and exhales hot and unsteady against the skin under his mouth, ruts into calloused fingers for a moment with a single-minded intensity before shakily batting Will’s hand away.

“No,” he says, firmly, nips at Will’s shoulder and ignores the scratch of fingernails down his spine in response other than to arch up into the sharpness of them. “No, no, no. This is about me getting to use a cool toy on you. You’re not going to distract me from _that_.”

“Worth a try,” mutters Will, but there’s no bite to his voice, and he’s smiling as Parvis wriggles downwards – careful not to tug on the fronds now very firmly entangled with his fingers – until he’s lying between Will’s legs.

Will reaches down to touch his hair, brushes gentle fingers through it and _feels_ Parvis relax into the motion in the way the mage tilts his head against his thigh, exhaling slowly. The rush of warm air makes him shiver, toes curling for a brief moment.

Parvis does it again because he likes to feel Will twitch, breathes slowly on the fronds entangled around his hand before licking the tip of one gently. It’s slightly rough, a strange texture not really analogous to anything he’s ever put in his mouth before, and it tries to grab at his tongue as he draws back.

The hand in his hair stills, resting slack and heavy on top of his head as Will groans.

“Hello,” says Parvis to the fronds, cheerfully, as they begin to detangle from his hand and brush against his cheeks, his nose, his lips. “Ooh, you’re feeling _friendly_ today, Will.” He opens his mouth, lets them explore the inside of it for a moment, careful not to catch them on his teeth, sticks his tongue out for them to coil around.

“I’ve not seen you in over a week,” Will points out, feels one of his fronds flick curiously over the rounded curve of Parvis’ ear before tangling delightedly in his hair. They love Parvis’ hair, for some reason he’s not quite worked out yet – perhaps just how easy it is to curl into, perhaps because it and his fingers are the closest things to fronds he has. The sensation it gives is strange, almost ticklish, but certainly not unpleasant. “I’m a little… wound up.”

They brush against Parvis’ neck with their enthusiastic grabbing, catch at the sensitive spots behind his ear and underneath his jawline. He snorts slightly, makes a sharp noise that Will knows is a poorly suppressed laugh, and squirms away from the contact. “That tickles!”

If Will could control them, he’d make them do it again, but he can’t. Instead, he’s content to lie there, watch Parvis twitch with every accidental contact and dissolve into full-blown laughter at the soft touches as the tendrils try to pull him forward.

He goes with them, leans into the tugs on his hair and the continued petting of Will’s hands – and his giggles soon turn to hungry noises, wet and distracted. He buries his face in the fork of Will’s legs with a groan, shameless and filthy. His fingers curl around Will’s thighs, bracing there, pushing them further apart to give him better access as he slowly, _painfully_ slowly, licks his way inside.

The gentle touches to his hair soon turn to tugging, and then to outright pulling, dragging him closer until his mouth’s pressed flat and open against Will’s sheath, nose in the crease between thigh and crotch. Will rocks against his tongue with short, desperate twitches of his hips, breath coming in shaky gasps, and Parvis _loves_ knowing he’s responsible for making Will lose it like this.

“Parvis- _Parvis_ ,” mumbles Will, tilts his head back and swallows hard as a particularly firm drag of Parvis’ tongue makes his nerves light up, sends luminescence rippling even brighter across the freckles scattered over his chest and shoulders. “Oh my _god_ -”

He can see the slow, arching roll of Parvis’ ass, the curve of his spine as he ruts slowly against the sheets, and it’s enough to make his hands tighten in Parvis’ hair again. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters quietly, gasps and twitches when Parvis presses his tongue in deeper.

When Parvis lifts his head and looks up at Will, grinning, his mouth and chin are smeared luminous green with Will’s slick. He licks at it with a similarly green tongue, doesn’t do much other than spreading it around further, and Will has to break eye contact with a groan at how _wrecked_ Parvis looks.

He makes to dip his head back down, but Will’s fingers tighten in his hair. “No,” he says, voice a little hoarse. “If- if you want to do this, then you should probably do it before…” He trails off, flushes slightly green, worries at one corner of his lip with his teeth. “You’re too good at that, Parvis,” he settles on eventually.

Parvis grins, carefully disentangles the fronds from his hair. It’s a slow process – they’re reluctant to let go, and inclined to wind around his fingers or grab at his face when they do. By the time he’s free, the fronds have tracked sticky, glowing trails across his cheeks.

Although he can’t see himself, he feels a little like someone’s dipped him face-first in neon paint.

He shifts back up to kiss Will open-mouthed and giddy. Messy with carelessness, he ends up smearing glowing slick over both their faces – knows Will will complain at him for it later and doesn’t really care.

“You know me,” he says, cheerfully, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth to try and clean the mess off and only half-managing. “I’m an expert at _everything_.” Privately, though, he’s pleased, feels his stomach flip a little at the compliment.

He loves being able to do this for Will; loves being able to make him feel good enough that he sheds some of that damn straight-laced propriety he’s so fond of.

Groping blindly by Will’s hip, he finds the vibrator again, closes fingers around the base of it and turns it on with a careless push of his thumb. “Ready?” he asks, grinning, wriggling, excited – and when Will groans, nods, tilts his head back to let Parvis fasten a mouth over his pulse point, Parvis slides the vibrator between them and presses it against the opening of Will’s sheath.

“Ah!”

The noise is sharp, cracked, full of surprise – but not necessarily pained. Will flinches, violently, shoves protective hands down between his legs and over his sheath as his fronds recoil in shock. For a second, he dulls alarmingly, turns almost lightless with shock before his luminescence recovers and flares up again.

 “What- what the hell _is_ that?” he asks, staring down at the vibrator and panting slightly, fingers still very definitely making a barrier between it and his cilia. He’s never felt anything like that before in his entire damn life.

Parvis bites his lip, face falling a little. “I- did I hurt you?” he asks, quietly, at least able to recognise Will’s question as rhetorical. He hadn’t _wanted_ to hurt Will, had forgotten how sensitive the alien could be sometimes.

Stupid of him, really.

Will sighs, scrubs a hand over his face. “Not… exactly,” he admits, an awkward ripple of light running across his face. He refuses to make eye contact, worries at his lip with his teeth in a vaguely anxious gesture. It hadn’t hurt, per se. It had just been- _big_. Big was a good way of describing it.

“So it was good?” asks Parvis, a sly grin sliding across his face. “But too much.”

Will, he’s discovered, has something of an issue with saying things outright, with asking for what he wants. Thankfully, Parvis has gotten good at interpreting.

“Go slower,” grumbles Will, because he can complain – that much, he’s capable of, no matter how self-conscious is. “You’re always so impatient. Patience is a virtue, isn’t that what everyone says here?”

Parvis laughs. “Virtue is a grace, Grace is a little girl who wouldn’t wash her face,” he finishes, ignores the frankly bemused look Will throws him in favour of kissing it off his face. “I’ll go slower,” he promises, between the tiny presses of his lips he peppers along the curve of Will’s jaw up to the pointed, glowing tip of his ear.

“Why don’t we…” Will pauses, gives up on explaining in favour of pushing Parvis far enough back that he can sit up. He spreads his legs, tugs Parvis close again so the mage is kneeling between his knees, and then hums with satisfaction. “Much better.” He leans up, kisses Parvis slow and languid, breath catching in his chest a little when he tastes himself on the other man’s lips.

Parvis makes an impatient noise as they break apart, bounces a little on the bed and ignores the slight creaking sound it makes. “Are we ready?” he asks, presses the button on the bottom of the vibrator to start it buzzing again. “Again?” The noise is a little quieter this time, Will is glad to note, hopefully translating to slightly softer vibrations. That, at least, should make it easier to deal with.

What _won’t_ make it easier to deal with is the way Parvis seems aiming to try and push it up against him again. It’s better than trying to get it inside of him, but not by much, and Will still flinches away before it can make contact.

“Just- hold it still!” he says, a little desperately, grabbing at Parvis’ wrist to steady it. “Don’t _shove_ it at me.” It feels good, so good it almost _hurts_ – does hurt, if he’s not careful, which is why he needs to be in control of this.

The noise Parvis makes can only be described as a whine, but he holds still – if only because Will’s iron grip around his wrist leaves him little option otherwise.

Will drops a hand down between his legs, brushes a careful, coaxing thumb over his fronds. They grab at the digit, curl eagerly around it, and he bites out a hiss at the rush of sensation, head dropping forward onto Parvis’ shoulder.

“Just hold still,” he repeats, quietly, voice a little hoarse as he disentangles his fingers from the greedy tendrils. They stretch out, grasping, and he coaxes them forward with tiny, encouraging touches until they’re brushing up against the low buzz of the vibrator.

They’re reluctant to curl around it, and he doesn’t blame them, not when the barest of touches against it sends heat jolting through his stomach. He waits for them to adjust, brushes gentle fingers over the shifting softness of his fronds – and then drags in a shuddering breath when they finally settle into a tentative coil.

“ _Oh_.” He exhales, doesn’t quite manage to hold in the low groan that builds low in his throat when the fronds coil a little tighter, slowly getting used to the intensity of it. Parvis looks unbearably smug, so Will refuses to make eye contact with him.

He rests his forehead against the other man’s collarbone instead, breathes quietly into the shadowy space between them that’s lit up by the glow of his fronds.

Parvis runs his free hand along the inside of Will’s thigh, brushes a careful thumb through the cilia lining the outer section of his sheath. “Feels good?” he asks, a slow smile on his face as he raises his hand to his mouth, licks the glowing slick off his thumb before settling a hand in Will’s hair.

“Yes,” agrees Will emphatically, pushes his head up into the slow circles Parvis’ overlong nails are making against his scalp. “ _Ohh_ yes.”

His fronds shift, curl a little tighter around the vibrator, and the extra sensation is enough to make him groan. The vibrator’s made of some kind of rubbery material, a delicious ripple of friction every time his fronds catch and drag on it, their shifting against it almost as good as the buzzing.

He slides his hand down Parvis’ wrist, curls his fingers around Parvis’, seeks out the button on the end of the vibrator and hovers his thumb over it. He waits a heartbeat, two, decides he’s used to this level of intensity – can probably handle a little more. Pushing down, his hips jolt forward in surprise when the buzzing ratchets up a notch. It’s stronger than before, burning through him in a way that he can’t quite describe as anything other than painfully good.

It’s too much.

He reaches down again, shoves Parvis’ hand away and tugs his fronds back from the device, panting for breath and almost doubled over. Parvis gives him an alarmed look, brushes fingers across the inside of Will’s wrist in a silent question, and then starts when Will grabs at it.

“Good, _good_ , just- too much,” he rasps, voice wrecked and gasping. “I- a moment.” Despite his words – despite the way every inch of him feels lit up and on fire, oversensitive – his fronds still reach out for the vibrator and grab at it, trying to drag it back. His hips rock against thin air, breath coming unsteady and shuddering, light rippling wildly across his collarbones and down his chest as his body tries to work out how to respond.

He holds Parvis’ wrist steady against his fronds’ grasping, though, waits until he stops feeling prickly and wrung-out before letting the greedy tendrils grab at it again.

They curl eagerly around it again – he realises Parvis has turned the intensity down again, exhales slowly and hides a smile at the gratitude warming his chest – clutching it close and dragging over every inch of it in thorough exploration.

Eventually, though, they get bored of exploration, and being to pull it towards his sheath. After a moment’s hesitation, he lets them, eases off his grip on Parvis’ wrist so the fronds can tug the vibrator forward.

He flinches a little at the shock of contact, when it comes, curls forward and presses his face against the curve of Parvis’ neck. It smells of coppery blood, sweat, and the ridiculous shampoo Parvis uses; he has to dig his teeth into the curve of it to keep from crying out when he lets the first inch of the vibrator push inside.

It’s thinner than a cock, less than two fingers’ width, small enough he doesn’t have to worry about hurting himself with the size of it – which is a relief, because he’s not sure he’s in any kind of state to worry about anything right now. He can feel the vibrations all the way through him, ampuella lighting up in wild flares at the vibrations, at the electricity powering the tiny device.

Parvis makes a strangled sort of noise at the touch of teeth against his skin, curls his hand tighter in Will’s hair until it feels like he’s close to pulling chunks of it out. He resists the urge to push the vibrator all the way into Will, just to hear the beautiful sound Parvis _knows_ he’d make.

They need to take it slow this time. There’ll be time enough for making Will scream later.

“More,” gasps Will against Parvis’ skin, lips brushing against the blooming bruise on his neck as he speaks. “More, _please_ -” and Parvis obliges, lets the fronds drag the vibrator another inch further, and Will makes a noise like he’s dying.

Parvis loves that about him, how noisy he gets, how _vocal_ he is. For all Will has issues with actually communicating, he’s got surprisingly few hang-ups about being ridiculously loud in bed. He pushes a little more of the vibrator in, until the point where his fingers are wrapped around the plastic bottom of it are pressed up against the entrance to Will’s sheath.

“Oh god-” manages Will, curls a hand around Parvis’ wrist again – but this time, it’s to keep him from moving his hand away. He mouths desperately at the mark he’s left on Parvis’ skin, feels the way his fronds tangle over Parvis’ fingers to curl around the hilt of the vibrator and hold it there too.

Parvis giggles. “Told you it’d be good,” he says, hisses when Will grazes teeth against his neck again to try and shut him up. His hips jolt, thrust up into nothing, and he clutches Will tighter against him in reflex. He suspects Will’s scalp is going to ache for a fair bit after this, but right now that’s really the least of his worries, not when he’s got Will practically writhing against him and making the most _delicious_ noises.

Will groans, sucks in a trembling breath, grinds his hips forward despite the fact there’s nothing more he can get inside him. He’s close, now, desperate, nerves on fire and the pit of his stomach heavy with pleasure.

“Parvis-” he gasps, voice getting louder and louder as he loses control of himself, shuddering, everything building and building and _building_. His breath catches in his chest with every exhale, stuttery and whining. “Parvis- Parvis, please, _Parvis-_ oh _god_ -”

He comes with a broken cry against the curve of Parvis’ neck, entire body shaking with the intensity of it. He clings to Parvis, grabs helplessly at his shoulders and scores red lines with his nails across the pale skin there as he tries desperately to ground himself, groans his way through the aftershocks.

Parvis holds him through it, the hand in his hair gentle and soothing as he trembles and gasps.

Thankfully, Parvis turns the vibrator off almost immediately, doesn’t push him through the pleasure and out the other side into pain with continued vibrations. His fronds cling to the toy for a second despite its stillness, determined to have something to grab – and then they let it go ever so slowly, coiling back towards the protection of his sheath.

When Parvis drops the vibrator onto the bed between them, it’s significantly greener and more luminescent than it was before, as are the sheets and Parvis’ fingers. He laughs, rubs his cheek against Will’s temple and nips at the pointed tip of one ear. “Look at the mess you’ve made, Will.”

He drops a hand between Will’s legs, careful not to directly touch his sheath or the cilia in them. Will’s too sensitive for that right after orgasm – he’s learned that from experience. Instead, he brushes gently against the slowly curling fronds, lets them coil vaguely around his fingers as they retract, enjoying the sleepy hum it drags out of Will.

“Oops,” mumbles Will, is amazed he manages sound at all, let alone anything approaching coherent speech.

Everything feels fuzzy, soft around the edges, and when Parvis releases him he slumps back against the bed with a slow exhale. His legs are still spread wide, Parvis knelt between them, hips arched ever so slightly upwards as his fronds curl up again and the leaves shift slowly back to cover his sheath as his arousal dims in the afterglow.

Parvis carries on petting Will gently, soothingly, even as he grins wide. “Oh, _wow_!” he says, looking from the vibrator lying on the bed between them, to the hazy look on Will’s face, and then back to the vibrator. “It’s like- I’ve found your off button! The Strife stop switch.”

If Will had more energy, he’d tell Parvis exactly how ridiculous that sounds. As it is, he feels exhausted and liquid, pliant and warm and sprawled out on the bed as he rides the endorphin rush that comes in the aftermath of his orgasm.

“Mmh,” he hums instead, turns his face to nuzzle against the pillow – a gesture of vulnerability he’d never allow himself if he were in his right mind – and ignores the fond way Parvis laughs at him.


End file.
